iCan't Always Win
by Harry Potter Fan 1994
Summary: Sam learns this the hard way. But what else will she lose while gaining this lesson? Her friends? Her mind? ...Her life?
1. Chapter 1

Hey! Get ready for an insanely long author's note.

First, sorry about the long wait, but I finally found time. To write one chapter. And I wasted it starting a new story. And not even a funny one :) I don't know about you guys, but I was getting INSANELY bored with iMight Meet You Halfway. If I ever have the motivation, I'll finish it, but it won't be spectacular by any means. This story is going to be dark, depressing, and a whole lot of fun for me to write, lol. I know the idea's been used a lot, but I wanted to put my own spin on it. Anyways, as you all know, I've been super busy, and that hasn't changed. PLEASE forgive me if my review replies are a little (or a lot) late, but I will get back to all of you. And I will update every week, at most.

In other news, watch out for a one-shot sequel to iDo, somewhere along the lines of iWish I Was Carly's Kid. It won't be directly related to iDo, but it is a future fic, so I thought I'd tie them together. And any suggestions on Freddie and Sam's daughter's name is welcome! Thanks!

Disclaimer: I do not own iCary. Now on to the story...excuse the language, I just wanted it to seem semi-realistic...hope it creeps you out, that was the intention.

* * *

"Let's wrap up the show, I'm sure the iCarly fans don't want to see your grandma's foot fungus again," said Carly, who coincidentially _also_ did not want to see Sam's grandmother's foot fungus again.

"You sure? How about you watch us feed it to Freddie?" Sam asked the camera.

"Haha..." Freddie paused, her suggestion finally hitting him. "You _lunatic_. No way am I--"

"And that's it for today! Bye! See you! Sam, _don't kill Freddie--_"

The iCarly viewers heard a rather girlish scream come from the tech producer, but then the camera turned off. What a fantastic ending.

* * *

"Honestly, Freddie, why do you even put up with Sam? Don't you have a girlfriend? You don't need to come over here to impress me anymore."

"I _don't_. I come over here to videotape iCarly. She's just gotten more vicious--now she gets into my house to beat me up!"

Carly took the ice pack back from him and ushered him home. Sam had left long ago, bored of all the fussing over Freddie. Or so she said. Carly would never admit it out loud, but a slight inkling of a feeling had started to accost her. Sam had started getting worse the minute Wendy had asked Freddie on their first date. And by the fourth, she'd become a monster to the poor boy. Who could blame her for reaching the conclusion she had?

The brunette sighed. She was smart enough to know Freddie and Wendy vs. Freddie and Sam wasn't even worth thinking about. At least Freddie would be able to come out of a date with Wendy unharmed. There was nothing more to do in these situations but wolf down a couple scoops of chocolate ice cream and watch a nice, dramatic soap opera that thankfully did not mirror her own life.

Her cell phone rang, interrupting her relaxation technique. "Hello?"

"Carly..." It was Sam on the other end, there was no mistaking it, but her voice was raspy and weak. "Carly, help..."

"Sam? Sam, where are you? Answer me! Sam...!"

* * *

_One hour earlier..._

It was gloomy outside. Heavy clouds threatened to spill all over Seattle, but this never deterred Sam from walking home. Her mom was mentally incapable of driving, and Sam didn't feel the need to backseat-drive-for-her-life lately. There was a lot that Sam didn't see the point in doing anymore. _Wendy_ sucked the fun out of everything.

_Stop thinking about it._

But she couldn't. The stupid nub wasn't fun to be around unless he was crying, and now he never got to that point because he'd always be at _Wendy's_. And _Wendy_ was always protecting him in school. And _Wendy_ would always conveniently interrupt with phone calls when Sam got around to picking on him. What kind of a name was Wendy anyways? Wendy's was a fast food restaurant, whether they wanted to admit it or not. And that's all Wendy was. A very fast relationship. Freddie's first, but a fast one all the same. It had to be.

Sam punched the nearest brick wall in frustration. She loved this section of her walk home. It was down a narrow alley between two shops, in the worst part of town--the part she lived in. Usually it boosted her confidence; yes, girls got raped all the time in dark, scary places, but not her. Never her. She was stronger than any middle-aged psycho that decided to pop up_. She _was the monster that lurked in this alley. And she liked that reputation.

If it ever shattered, she wouldn't know what to do.

"Something wrong?" asked a gravelly voice. Hobos. They were in here all the time. Sam shook her hand a little; it had started to throb. Maybe brick wasn't the best punching bag--or at least, not as good of a punching bag as Freddie was.

"Who're you?" she replied rudely.

The guy's clothes were ragged, his beard unshaven. He sat against the wall of one of the shops, eyeing her with interest. "A lonely man."

"Get a job, you pervert. We don't need filth like you clogging up our streets."

He didn't reply, but stood up. Sam kept right on walking. He wasn't worth her time. That was, until he grabbed her wrist.

She tugged herself out of his grasp. "Watch it, bozo, or I'll knock you out."

"Don't talk to me like that."

"I'll talk to you how I want. Now get lost."

He grabbed her arm again and pinned her to the wall. His breath smelled horrible. Scratch that_, he _smelled horrible. But so did Sam's cat, so it didn't bother her. What did, though, was the fact that he evidently did not value his own life.

"Get. Off. Of. Me." She kicked him right where it hurt, but...missed? No, he'd moved. Lucky for him. Sam struggled, and yet, he held her down. This was new, but no matter, she had a lot more to give.

"Apologize."

Was he kidding? She never even said sorry to her friends, forget some homeless idiot off the streets. Somehow, she freed her hand from his iron grip and punched him in the chest.

Her fist practically bounced off.

Not that it didn't hurt, she was sure he winced. But the guy had pecs, and her hand throbbed even more now. Where did a hobo get the money to work out at a gym?

"Let go!" she growled, various limbs of hers flailing. Some made contact, most didn't. He just held her there, trying to force her to apologize, muttering crazily about how he'd be great one day and she'd regret insulting him. "I don't care about your career plans, you numbskull, will you just let go of me? I've got a life to get to, unlike you!"

Maybe enraging him hadn't been the best way to go. The next thing Sam new, she was on her back and her head was exploding in pain. He'd hit her, and not lightly, either. He was coming down at her, and elbowed her in the stomach. Sam nearly puked, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of getting to her. She flipped him over, which he obviously wasn't expecting, and tried her uppercut on him. He howled and swiped at her, but she jumped up and out of his way.

Any normal girl would've run. Sam didn't even consider the option.

"Take this, you good-for-nothing lump!"

More jabs, more kicks, more tackles. This guy needed to learn a lesson. She was tiring, but he didn't look as bruised as he should have. Sam should've seen that. She should've taken it as a warning. But she didn't.

All of a sudden, she was on her back again. He'd thrown her down, and raised his leg slowly.

_Shit._ She didn't even have time to react.

His foot smashed into her ribs, definitely breaking at least one. Sam gasped in pain, but he did it again. And again. "How do you like this now, bitch? You think you're better than me? You're nothing! Nothing! To anyone! Stop screaming, no one's going to help you!" He laughed crazily as one of her broken ribs punctured through her skin. There was blood everywhere, pooling around her...

"Stop!" she croaked. It was to no avail. He lifted her roughly and pinned her against the wall, his hands closing around her throat.

Up until now, she'd never once doubted herself. Up until now, it had always been _It's fine. I'll get out of this. There isn't a person in the world that can beat me._

Then a new thought began to penetrate. _Oh my god. He's stronger than I am._

"That's right," he hissed coldly, as if reading her mind. "There's a reason mommy tells you never to walk by yourself at night...you didn't listen to her, did you? Now you die."

The last word echoed in her mind. That was so stupid. She was walking home. This hadn't even happened to her. This was some made up garbage, she wasn't actually suffocating.

_Die..._

_No. I can't. I'm Sam. I'm immortal. I can't..._

_Yes, you can. You lost. You're done for._

She couldn't breathe. He was cutting off all her air supply, and she couldn't do a thing about it. Struggling would kill her. She could only wait as blackness crept over her line of sight--the last thing she would ever see would be his beady, shiny, deadly eyes...

"From over here!" yelled a muffled voice. "I heard someone scream--where'd she go?" Sam didn't register what was happening, but the mental case choking her did. Quickly, her airpipe was reopened. The guy dropped her and disappeared, but the pain was still there. Oxygen still evaded her. Every breath was agony.

_Call nine-one-one. Call nine-one-one. _Somehow that was all she could think. But her body wouldn't listen. Her cell phone was in her hand, but she couldn't press the buttons. Redial had to be good enough.

"Hello?"

"Carly...Carly, help..." And Sam blacked out.

By the time her saviors found her, she was on the verge of death.

* * *

Review please! Oh, and just so you know, this is not the end of the story. This is just the beginning (muahahaha). So yeah. Stay tuned.


	2. Chapter 2

AHHH I updated fast!!! I'm so excited...you guys are probably like 'authors are EXPECTED to update fast, you dummy' lol. That's okay. Thanks for the reviews last chapter! Lol glad this has been taken so well--new genre and everything. But I actually like this chapter a lot more than the last one; hope you guys do, too!

To **Rae Girl**: Lol, short for lunatic? Haha I love that, I cracked up. Actually, that would help a lot for the beginning of my story :) Cool, thanks!

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.

* * *

"Did he take advantage of you?" asked the therapist.

"I already told you, I don't remember."

"It's something you would _know, _you don't have to remember."

"Can you stop bothering me?"

"I'm not trying to bother you, Samantha, I'm trying to help you." This was way out of the college graduate's league. Maybe after a few years of experience she could handle girls like these, but she had been expecting a frightened, helpless, little creature, not _this_. "You don't need to mask anything behind a tough exterior. I'm here so that you can talk to me and then not worry about anybody else judging you."

"Then you've got a pretty useless job, don't ya?"

"Samantha, please..."

"Seriously, lady, you're kind of nice and I'm not feeling to great, so I'll spell it out for you. Leave or _you're_ gonna need a therapist."

Carly barged into the hospital room unannounced. "Hey, Sammers. How're you feeling?"

Sam rolled her eyes. The last week, Carly had come in every day about a hundred times cheerier than usual, as if that would erase what happened.

"Oh, I'm sorry...am I interrupting...something?"

She also refused to say 'therapy.'

"Nope. The nub was just leaving. Did you bring me any chicken? I've been living off hospital food and it _sucks_."

"Ms. Shay, can you give us a moment?"

"Can _you_ give us a moment?"

"Samantha, I really need for you to open up."

"I can get Carly to _open up_ the door for you."

"Maybe you should come back later," Carly suggested. "Sam doesn't talk much when she's eating, and if she does, it usually sounds like 'augh mmph fmmf gmhuh.'"

The therapist nodded and left without a backward glance. Carly took her seat and straightened up Sam's nightstand, which was a mess of wrappers and empty paper cups. She handed Sam the chicken and searched for something to say.

"Do you know when I get out of this joint?"

"No idea."

"Eh. I don't really care that much, as long as I get my five square meals a day. This is the only place they let you sleep for three days straight. Usually my mom yells at me to get my lazy butt out of bed after like twelve hours."

"What do you do in bed for twelve hours?"

"Same thing I did for my coma. Become completely and totally unconscious and dream up ways to torture Freddie."

"Sounds fun."

"It was."

Sam stretched and then winced, forgetting yet again that moving was out of the question. Carly hurt for her friend. She couldn't wrap her mind around Sam being weak. It just wasn't possible.

"Listen, Sam. I know this is a difficult subject for you but can't you tell _me_ what happened?"

"Why does it matter? What's done is done. Who cares?"

"We do. We want to help you."

"I wish people would stop saying that. I don't need help."

"You do, Sam. Whether you think you do or not. You can't keep this to yourself forever."

"Whatever. Augh mmph fmmf gmhuh."

* * *

"Sam, what are you doing in school?!"

"Wasting time. Why?" The blonde was on crutches, and every step was a battle against pain, but she was there.

"You should be at the hospital!" cried Carly.

"Yeah right. I was dying of boredom; hospitals can't cure that. I just kicked the doctor around a little and he signed the release papers."

"Sam, your ribs are _broken_."

"So? Hey, can you carry my books to math?"

"Sam! Hey!" Gibby greeted. "I didn't know you were out of the hospital!"

Sam glanced at Carly. "You want me to prove I don't belong in that asylum anymore?" She pretended to try and hug Gibby and somehow, even with the crutches, managed to give him a Texas Wedgie. "Hey to you too, Gibson."

"Sam?"

Freddie appeared, his arm around Wendy's waist. He looked confused for a second, and then his expression twisted. "What're you doing here? You'll hurt yourself more trying to walk around--get back in bed!"

"Seriously, Sam," agreed Wendy. "You need to rest for another several weeks at least. I can call my mom to give you a ride home, if you want."

"Don't worry your pretty little face about it," Sam mocked. "Freddie hates it if his girlfriends have frown wrinkles."

Freddie let go of his girlfriend's waist and scowled. She could insult him all she wanted, but Wendy was off limits. "Shut it, Sam, your injury doesn't give you the right to insult Wen--anyone."

Wendy knew a fight brewing when she saw one. She tugged Freddie's arm. "Let's go to class. We've got math too, Sam, you want us to grab your bag for you?"

"Just leave. I don't want your spit all over it when you start making out."

"Sam..." Carly warned, but her friend paid her no heed. Wendy took all the fun out of bullying--she insisted on being nice no matter what. To everyone. Even Freddie. No _wonder_ he was dating her.

* * *

Mr. Howard droned on and on. His class was worse than being stuck in bed all day with no human contact (hospital staff had ceased to be counted as human beings to her the minute they started to talk about how good the Soup of the Day had been). Sam never did anything productive in there to begin with, but at least she'd be shooting spitballs at the back of Freddie's head. Now he was busy cuddling with Wendy over a math problem and she was too tired and nauseous to do anything about it.

"Miss Puckett, can you tell us the answer to problem five?"

"I don't know, why don't you look up your butt for it?" Sam replied promptly. Most of the class laughed; Freddie sent her a disapproving glare and _Wendy darling_ motioned for him to let it go.

"Three weeks of detention after you're off those things," Mr. Howard retorted after the class stopped chuckling. This was a regular scene in geometry. Most people had given her weird looks once she'd returned, as if unable to believe something could hurt Sam Puckett. But normalcy had begun to settle over Ridgeway--almost.

Sam wasn't sure when she dozed off. Usually, it didn't matter. She went to sleep in _all_ of her classes. But today she actually caught something Mr. Howard was saying before she drifted into dreamland...

"Make sure you write out the first seven digits of pi when using it in the equations! Not two, not four, but seven! Take this down: the first seven digits of pi--"

_Pi..._

_Die..._

_Die..._

_Beady, shiny eyes staring at her while she choked and choked, sweaty hands squeezing her throat, she was being pummeled over and over and it hurt so much..._

_DIE..._

_DIE..._

She screamed. Actually screamed. It wasn't long or drawn out or dramatic or anything, but it was loud enough to get the attention of every single member of the class.

"Miss Puckett, is there a problem?"

Sam didn't listen to him. She needed to breathe. She needed out. She just got up and ran, refusing to acknowledge the torture her ribs doled. The door smashed open with the force of her tackle, and she was far, far from the classroom before she stopped, heaving, with tears streaming down her face. She had no business running; she felt like she'd been broken all over again.

Vaguely, Sam heard someone calling her name. It was a male voice--was it _the_ voice? She couldn't run into that man again--he'd really kill her this time. He grabbed her, but she twisted away, crying out in pain. He tried to hold her still, but she wouldn't let him--not again, not ever, ever again--

"Sam! It's me, it's Freddie! I won't hurt you, I promise, stop--"

Finally, the voice penetrated. Sam froze in confusion.

"Freddie?"

"Yeah."

She couldn't even see--no, her eyes were closed. If she opened them her ribs would burst out of her chest. She couldn't do that. But she felt someone stroking her hair, caressing her cheek, murmuring calming words...

"You can trust me. It's me, remember? I won't hurt you. I _can't_ hurt you."

_He can't hurt me._

Freddie started in surprise when Sam's forehead crashed onto his shoulder. Her shoulders were shaking, but she refused to cry. She'd never cry in front of him. But it was difficult not to.

Almost inaudibly, she whimpered, "It hurts."

"I know." Freddie held her gently, but he knew it wouldn't ease her pain. She couldn't be here. She needed medical care. "I'm going to call nine-one-one, okay? We'll get you to the hospital."

"No."

_What am I doing? This isn't me. I'm not weak enough to come running to this nub for help, and I won't be until I'm dead._

Sam shoved him away, but he didn't move an inch. She chose to ignore the symptoms of her deterioration. "Leave me alone. I can handle it."

"Sam, you're not strong enough to be walking around by yourself--"

Wrong thing to say.

She may not have been able to bruise him right there, but the fire in her eyes was enough to make him shudder. "I'm strong enough to do _anything_. And don't you forget it."

Because if _he_ didn't believe it, how would she?

* * *

Review please!! :)

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

I got it out on Friday! Well...on Friday in like Hawaii...close enough. I'm so sorry about the reviews I haven't gotten to yet, I will reply ASAP. But I really do appreciate them!

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.

* * *

"So Sam decided to stay home today?" asked Freddie, relieved.

"Yeah..." Carly decided not to give him the reasoning, since it involved the words 'Fridiot' and 'annoying the pie outta me.' "So, what exactly happened yesterday?"

Freddie shifted. The entire school knew about Sam's little episode, but the cause was still up in the air. He didn't know how much he was allowed to share, even with Carly, before Sam decided to give him the death penalty.

"No idea. She was really upset. Flashbacks?"

"I guess. Sam won't tell her therapist anything, though. Doesn't she get that she's going to keep having them?"

"Maybe they'll go away," Freddie suggested lamely.

"And maybe whoever hurt her'll be the next President of the United States," Carly argued. "But since that's not going to happen, why don't we figure out a way to get her to open up?"

"How? Do you realize it's _Sam_ you're talking about? It's impossible to make her do anything she doesn't want to do."

"Oh, Freddie...there's so much you don't know."

* * *

"What're _you_ doing here, nub?"

"Carly told me to come."

It was true. After her ambiguous responses to his 'how to get Sam to do anything' query, Carly had ordered him to meet her at Sam's house that night. Unfortunately, Carly was nowhere to be seen.

"Well, that was a stupid idea."

"Shut up, Sam, you know you're lonely."

"Lonely, yes, but not desperate."

"Must you be so vicious?"

"Must you say 'must you'?"

"You just did, too!"

"Yeah, well--" Sam winced. Her body still refused to cooperate when she wanted to do anything strenuous. She didn't know yelling fit that category. "I was mocking you."

It was too late. Already, an expression of pity had flitted across Freddie's face. It enraged her.

"Don't look at me like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like--like you're gonna try and _help_ me or something!"

"Why can't I? I'm your friend, that's what friends do."

Sam growled, "Don't kid yourself; I'd never be friends with a nub like you. And I definitely don't need--"

"You _need_ to shut up. You're hurting yourself," Freddie replied shortly. _She's in pain. Let it go. It's just PMSing times a thousand; she'll get over it..._he continued to remind himself. "You wanna tell me what happened?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Why don't you go die?"

"Why didn't you?"

"Where's Carly?"

"Don't change the subject. What did the guy do?"

"None of your business."

Freddie's ears turned red. This was going to get awkward. "Did he...hurt you?"

"Whaddya think, Dorkward, I'm lying in bed for fun?"

"No--I mean...like--well, um..."

"Did he rape me? Take a wild guess."

He was silent for a second, and then tried again. "If he didn't, then why won't you talk to anyone?"

"Why the heck does it matter?"

"It's supposed to clear your mind--you know, take the weight off your shoulders--"

"Then why don't you leave? I'll feel a lot better."

"Sam. Seriously."

"You're really annoying. Have I told you that already?"

"Just tell the poor therapist about the stupid guy!"

"I don't _want_ to!"

Freddie frowned and leaned forward. It wasn't like she could beat him up, anyways; he could show a little interest. "You don't want to talk about it? Sam...are you scared?"

Sam punched him in the face.

* * *

"You left _Freddie_ alone with _Sam_?" Gibby asked incredulously.

"Don't sound so terrified. He'll be fine. I just wanted Sam to open up a little bit."

"To_ Freddie?_"

"She'll do it. Trust me."

"You know he's got a date with Wendy tonight, right? I don't think she wants him there with his face rearranged."

"Relax. I'm sure he'll come out of this just fine. Sam can barely move a muscle."

Gibby shrugged. "If you say so. I've got a hot date tonight, too. My girlfriend's a big fan of iCarly."

Carly stared at him incredulously. "You have a girlfriend?"

"Well...an online girlfriend...and I'm not sure she's real...but my mom was so happy when she found out!"

"Right...you have fun chatting with your imaginary date. I've got more important things to do. Like homework."

* * *

Sam. Was. Not. Scared.

She wasn't. She couldn't be. Who would ever respect her if they knew she was...uncomfortable...with being alone at night, now, or that she refused to sleep unless absolutely necessary--and even then only for a couple hours--or that she jumped at the slightest sound? No one would ever fear her again. She'd be dumb, ugly, rude, _and_ weak. And people would say that to her face if they ever found out--if the problem even existed. Because she wasn't scared. She didn't need anyone to comfort her. She could take the guy any time, any day--that last time had just been a little unlucky.

This was the message Sam ached to beat into Freddie, but could only manage a few hits before her body begged for her to stop.

"Ow!"

Sam didn't even reply. She hurt all over. She laid back in bed and stared up at the ceiling. Her room lights were dull; the paint seemed yellow. It probably was. But at least it wasn't gray--that terrible color the sky had been _that _day. At least she couldn't feel the humidity in the air, like she had when she'd walked into that alley. At least she was safe, for now--it wasn't like the nub nursing his blackening eye could do anything to her, even when she was bedridden.

"Was that really necessary?"

"Are _you_ really necessary?"

"That doesn't even make sense!"

"Yeah it does. Shut up and think about it."

"Why should I?"

Sam raised her fist threateningly, and Freddie flinched. It wasn't very dramatic, but it did help her confidence a little. Without realizing she'd said anything aloud, Sam murmured, "You're still afraid of me."

Freddie raised an eyebrow at her. "I'll _always_ be afraid of you."

"Promise?"

"Huh?"

"No matter what?"

"Are you going somewhere with this?"

"Just answer me!"

"Okay! Okay, yeah. To me, you will always be Sam, the rabid, fanged, demented monster-demon-girl. Are you happy?"

No, she wasn't. But it didn't matter. "Yeah..."

Freddie waited, but Sam had sunk into her own little bubble of thought. He considered going to get ice for the throbbing that had started, but he didn't want to leave her all alone when she was acting so strange. "Are you okay?"

Again, she was silent. But when she did begin talking, she didn't answer his question.

She answered a whole bunch of others.

"I was walking home from Carly's. I always take the short route--nothing's ever happened to me before, and I didn't think it ever would..."

Freddie listened attentively, his hand slowly creeping up to cover hers. Sam couldn't meet his eye--she didn't want to know what he thought of her. Surprisingly enough, though, it felt good to let it all out. Really good. She even hazarded adding her own thoughts. It was all out in the open, and what was even better was that Freddie seemed to understand.

"And I thought--I thought..."

"That it was the end?" he suggested.

"Yeah. I thought I was dead."

His fingers entwined with hers. "You're fine now."

"What part of this looks 'fine' to you?"

"Well...you got out of it alive. You're lucky."

"I don't want to be lucky. I want to be _sure_."

"You can't control everything, Sam."

For the first time, she held his stare. "Watch me."

It was hard not to admire spunk like that. If only Freddie knew how much trouble her guts would get her into...

* * *

Wendy's call came around nine at night. The tech nerd was fast asleep in the chair he'd been sitting in, but one look at his caller ID and he was wide awake.

"Shoot! I was supposed to meet her two hours ago!"

Sam peered at him out of squinty eyes. It was the first night in a week she'd slept peacefully, and now _Wendy_ had to wake her up.

"Hello?"

_"Hey, Freddie. I called you liked seven times."_

"I'm so sorry, Wends. I fell asleep."

_"Oh__..."_

"No, that came out wrong--I went over to Sam's too see how she was doing and I dozed off over here. You know how boring I find her," he joked lamely. Neither of the girls who heard were impressed.

_"Oh. How is she?"_

"Pretty good."

_"Um, okay. Well, I'll talk to you tomorrow, then."_

"Yeah. Bye." He hung up the phone and continued awkwardly, "I guess Carly's not coming."

"I guess you'd better leave, then." This time she was not exchanging banter. He'd really hurt her--how could he say he'd found her retelling dull? Wasn't telling somebody her 'cure'? What if that person didn't care?

Freddie sensed danger and got up. "Okay. I'll stop by tomorrow, then."

"Don't. _Wendy_'ll have a hissy fit."

"Sam--"

"Get out!"

She pulled the covers over her head and waited until the door closed behind him. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Review please!


	4. Chapter 4

To "blablobb": Let me clear a few things up for you. If this story was 'complete' then the status would be changed to 'complete.' Since it has not been, you can assume I am still writing. Also, if you are going to criticize me, please leave reasons as to WHY, and also make an attempt at grammar so I can take you seriously. Yes, the last chapter was not 'action-packed' but as I'm sure you've also seen, this is not an action story. The last chapter was mainly to focus on the psychological aspects of Sam's denial, which most other people understood. I didn't know I'd have to spell that out for anybody. If you want action from here on out, this is the wrong story for you, seeing as the genres are 'Romance/Drama.'

To **Cassie**: Thanks so much for reviewing! Here it is :)

In other news, AHHHH! If you've seen the episode list, then you know what I'm 'AHHH!'ing about. This weekend...I don't think I want to see it....

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.

* * *

"Here you go. You wanted chocolate milk, right?" Wendy asked her boyfriend.

"Yeah. Thanks. Listen, about last night..."

She smiled. "Don't worry about it. As long as Sam's okay. She looks a lot better today--almost like she _should_ be at school again."

Freddie chuckled and shook his head. "She's so stubborn. Whatever. They've got teachers looking out for her everywhere, though, so maybe today won't be as bad as last time. Here they come now."

Carly greeted Freddie and Wendy happily. Sam just grunted and plopped down.

"What's up, you guys?" questioned Wendy.

"Not much. Right Sam?" The blonde refused to answer. "Um...it hurts her to talk."

"Oh. Sorry."

Freddie changed the topic fast. "I gotta go. Emergency AV club meeting. But, um, you're not mad, right?"

"Of course not."

He got up and pinched her cheek. "Sweet girl."

Wendy grinned. "Don't mock me, Benson."

She tried to kiss him, but he was already gone.

"You guys are so cute," Carly gushed, ignoring that last point. Wendy blushed and said nothing.

Sam felt like throwing up.

* * *

Her mother came to pick Sam up from school, which didn't help her queasiness. Ms. Puckett was more than a little out of it--all the time. Sam wasn't even sure if her mom knew how close her daughter had been to death.

And she wasn't talking about the car ride to Skybucks the day before.

Heavy metal rocked the old car, adding to Sam's growing headache. Her mother was singing--or rather, yelling--along. It was pointless to interrupt and request a lower volume.

"Can we get out of the parking lot now?"

Freddie and Wendy were approaching on the right.

"_I hate my parents I hate my life but one thing I really hate is this knife--!"_

"Interesting. Do you know how great of a role model you are for me?"

Her mother didn't even hear.

Sam wondered if she'd have to take over the steering wheel, but finally, the car started moving. Sam rested her forehead on the window and watched Freddie kiss Wendy goodbye, watched her wave to Mrs. Benson, watched the neurotic old lady gush over Freddie's perfect girlfriend. It was all so irritating--no, worse than that. Upsetting, even. The one thing she really hated, other than her parent and her life, as her mother had so eloquently put it.

Ms. Puckett swerved to avoid an innocent little girl crossing the street. Sam clutched at anything and everything, but she still felt like she was breaking in half when her mom braked before hitting the curb.

"Stop! You're hurting me!"

_"Stop screaming, no one's going to help you!" _He was always there when she was hurting the most. Always. "_You're nothing...to anyone!" _She tasted blood. Or she remembered tasting blood. Either way, she knew she was dying. Right there. Again.

"Sammy?"

Everything was blurred. The door was unlocked--or had she unlocked it? It didn't matter, she needed to get out. Open air. She wouldn't be trapped. Someone could help her. Sam rolled out of the car and landed on grass. Every breath brought her closer to unconsciousness. She couldn't keep this up. No matter how far she ran, he'd always catch up with her.

"Sam! Sam, are you okay? Talk to me!" Warm arms, trying to hug her. Warm, but so, so gentle.

She gasped--whether it was from lack of oxygen or an unbelievable amount of pain, she didn't know. "Freddie..."

"Lie down. Don't move. Wendy called nine-one-one, they'll be here any minute, okay?"

"No..."

"Sam, Sam, keep talking to me. It's going to be okay. Don't close your eyes!"

"Why do you look like him...?"

She had to keep her eyes closed. It was Freddie's voice, but _his_ face. If she couldn't see him, she could pretend he wasn't there...

"Mom, she's hallucinating--"

"She's in pain, Fredward, there's nothing we can do. Where did her mother go?"

"I don't know, she drove off or something--"

"Freddie, is she okay?" Wendy. Even through the agony, Sam wanted to growl. Finally, she could control the movement in her arms--enough to swat the hovering onlookers away.

"I'm fine."

She could see them now. There was Mrs. Benson, with an ice pack in her hand. Then _Wendy_, standing around, looking all worried. And Freddie, with his jaw dropped. It was over. At least at this point, she was sane.

Some people begged to differ on that point.

"Are you kidding? You're nowhere near fine, stop! Stop trying to sit up, just stay there. Lie down!" Freddie ordered. Sam glared at him.

"Don't tell me what to do, Benson. Sorry, there are two of you here--_Miss_ Benson."

"This is no time for jokes! You're going _crazy_, Sam--you were practically screaming!"

"Oh, shut up. Nothing happened. You're just exaggerating." Sam stood up. Was it really _him_ she'd opened her self up to the other day? Why? He didn't--couldn't--understand. She wouldn't let the pain show. Never, ever, ever; no matter how bad it was. Freddie reached out to help her, but she stepped back--and collapsed.

_Idiot!_ All she had to do was ignore it! Tears sprung to her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "Way to knock me over, jerk!"

"I didn't even touch you! Can you stop being so obstinate? Just wait until the stupid ambulance gets here!"

"Who says 'obstinate' anymore? I don't even know what that means!"

"Fredward! We do not use the 'S' word around young women! Including Sam, in some cases!"

Freddie paid her no attention. "You're going to kill yourself trying to act tough! Will you just let someone help you?"

Sam poked him in the chest, hard. "It's not an act, you nub."

He was furious. She almost enjoyed it. He was trying so hard to calm down, but she knew he was going to do something totally stupid, like he always did when he was angry. "That's it. I'm done."

Right on cue. It didn't even make any sense. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm done trying to be nice. If you want to act like it's no big deal, fine. You want to become some psychotic freak--probably just like the guy who hurt you--have fun with it. You're not doing yourself any favors. If you ever learn to ask for help, I'll be waiting. But until then, good luck." His voice was deadly calm. Sam considered being nervous, but laughed at the thought. Freddie couldn't do anything to cause her any sort of harm.

Freddie turned around and started walking away.

"Samantha, do you want me to give--" Mrs. Benson began.

"Leave her," her son growled.

"She's _hurt_--"

"I said, leave her!"

"For once, he's got it right," Sam replied bitingly. "I don't need any of you guys."

Wendy had this sickening expression of pity on her face. Sam wished she could smack her into kingdom come. No one looked at her like that. Ever. Unless they wanted to find various limbs of theirs in China.

Reluctantly, the two girls followed Freddie back into the parking lot. Sam sighed in relief. Peace and quiet and a short walk home...every journey started with a single step.

She winced. That single step wasn't fun.

_I'll just rest a little. And then I can--_

_Are you kidding? You don't need rests. You're perfectly fine._

It didn't matter that tears were streaming down her face. It didn't matter that she couldn't breathe anymore. What mattered was that everyone could see she was just as strong as she'd been before. And as she limped across the street, that was exactly what she convinced herself they saw.

* * *

Sam was going to walk through that alley again. Even she knew it was a stupid idea. But as she got closer and closer to it, her resolve got stronger.

If she could beat him, she'd won. If he beat her--really beat her this time, then she deserved to lose. She deserved anything he'd do. She was prepared to die for her title.

"Where are you?!" she yelled at the entrance. Her voice echoed off the walls, but no one answered. Sam stepped in. "Quit playing hide-and-seek. I'm back, and I'm going to finish you off this time. You're not getting lucky again!" Nothing moved. "Get out here!"

She punched the wall for good measure, but the action didn't yield the same results as before. He wasn't coming. He wasn't there. Who knew where the stupid hobo had gone--she'd probably never see him again. She'd never be able to settle the score. How would she live with herself now?

"Hey! You! Get outta here!" called a gruff voice. Probably the owner of one of the shops. "This place ain't safe fer girls. Last week we had a dead one in this same alley."

Sam flexed her hand experimentally. It didn't hurt too badly. "She isn't dead."

That was a lie, Sam realized. She _was_ dead. The Sam everyone knew was gone. This weakling had been left in her place—a weakling in mind and body. A weakling no one could respect or fear. She was ashamed to call herself Sam Puckett.

"Dead or not, you'd better go home. This ain't safe for ya," he repeated.

"Yeah. I guess it's not…" It was safe for Sam Puckett. Whoever this girl was—nowhere was safe for her. Not even her own head.

* * *

Review please!

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

Before we start, I just want to say a collective "PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!" I know I answered almost all your reviews about a week late and I am SO sorry. I had a nightmarish week last week and I think next week is going to be just as nightmarish...but I will try harder to answer them :)

So, as a consequence of my busy lifestyle (everyone say 'YAY! School!') I totally forgot what I was doing with this story. So there won't be two chapters this weekend...just one, until I figure out the storyline again...

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly...lol I almost typed 'myCarly' but if it was my iCarly I wouldn't be sitting here going OH MY GOSH DAN SCHNEIDER ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

* * *

There they were. Laughing and talking and being all lovey-dovey. What did they care if she--

Sam tore her thoughts and stare away from Freddie and Wendy and Carly. She would _not_ get all angsty. She refused to. She'd already stooped so low, self-pity was out of the question. Somehow, she had to become Sam again, and that entailed being stronger than ever.

But this backpack had other ideas.

"Will you just get in the freaking locker!?" she screamed finally. The few people around her stared and then smiled good-naturedly. It was just Sam being Sam.

They didn't know the pain she felt from shoving the stupid thing over and over, from yelling at the top of her lungs, from watching her friends carry on so easily without her.

Another push, and half her lockers contents fell onto the floor. Sam nearly cried at the thought of bending down to pick all that stuff up. _No, I can do it. I can. I have to. That'll show them._ She kneeled slowly, but it hurt too much. _It doesn't hurt at all! Suck it up, you wimp! You're better than this!_

_I'm not..._

"See you later, Carls," she heard Wendy say. She was leaving, with Freddie's arm around her waist, all cuddled up close to her.

_Carls_?

That was SAM's nickname for her. She. Could. Not. Be. Replaced.

Sam grabbed the first thing available to her; her Geometry book. She chucked it through the air as hard as she could...

And it landed a good five feet behind the retreating couple, whacking some poor innocent in the head.

She couldn't even throw. It wasn't worth the pain.

Sam leaned against her locker and felt the tears coming. _I won't cry...I NEVER cry...in front of anyone except Carly. Stop...stop...STOP...STOP!_

"Watcha doing?" Gibby asked, materializing next to her.

"Go away."

He waited stiffly and then relaxed once he realized there was no bite to go with her bark. "I can't believe I'm saying this," he said, "but it feels weird to go home with my underwear where it's supposed to be."

"Shut it, Gibson." Sam's voice was strained and weak. She didn't have the energy to hurt him anymore.

"You know, you're not so bad when you're not vicious. I think I might get used to hanging out with you."

Sam leaned back against the lockers and squeezed her eyes shut. This had to be a nightmare. Gibby was _not_ trying to become her friend. "Don't even think about it."

"Whatevs. I've got a cyberdate with JustDucky129. Catch you later."

He was too far away to be in the blast radius when Sam erupted with fury, but she yelled anyway, "NO! YOU'RE _NOT_ GOING TO CATCH ME LATER! YOU'RE NOT GOING TO CATCH ME _EVER_! I'M NOT ONE OF YOUR STUPID FRIENDS!"

What had her world come to?

* * *

"How's it going?" asked Carly in class.

"Great."

"You look exhausted."

"No I don't."

"Sam you've got bags under your eyes--"

"Carly, I'm fine, okay? Just leave me alone."

She backed off and went to talk to a crying girl with a huge bump on her forehead.

Sam rested her head on her desk and sighed. She _was_ exhausted. Her tantrum had taken a lot out of her instead of energizing her like it should have.

"Come on, Sam, you can't sleep in this class again, Mr. Howard's going to kill you, you know he doesn't care if you're injured."

"What, bore me to death? He can't get any worse."

"You know what I mean."

"Stop nagging."

"I'm not nagging, I'm just telling you to stay up!"

"Well, you're annoying me."

Carly frowned. "Look. I know you're hurt right now. But you're a mess, Sam. Whatever went on between you and Freddie was stupid, and it needs to stop. You need him--"

Sam didn't mean for her fist to fly. She hadn't even thought about punching Carly. She definitely knew how bad of an idea that was, even for her. But apparently some nub had taken over her brain, because her voice came out raspy and strange and not at all normal. "Don't talk about him in front of me."

It wasn't until she saw the shocked faces of everyone in the class, Mr. Howard's furious glare, and poor, poor Carly sitting in front of her, _scared_, did she realize that she had just hit her best friend.

"Oh my God...Carly, I'm sorry, I--"

"Just forget it!" Carly hissed, moving her books to a different desk. Most of the other people followed suit, and Sam was left in a lovely little island of loneliness.

* * *

She didn't know it, but Freddie was far from done with her. In fact, he was meddling in her life more than ever. Every single second of the day, he'd made sure there was someone watching her if he couldn't, making sure she didn't break down with no one there to help her.

Vaguely, he noted that there had been a girl hovering by his side the whole day...his girlfriend? She was probably ticked by now. He'd tried talking to her and Carly, he really had. But his thoughts wouldn't function around anything but Sam. He just laughed when they laughed and nodded while they talked--hopefully he'd gotten through it okay.

_You haven't checked on her in ten minutes. Is she still okay? How's she going to get through this without you? _He furtively peeked around a corner of the hallway, watching Sam wrestle with her school supplies yet again. Freddie ached to help her, but he knew he couldn't. She'd just yell at him.

And he wanted her to come to him first. He just...needed to know she needed him.

"Freddie?"

"Mmm?"

That was a novel thought. Why did that matter to him? It wasn't bad, was it? It wasn't like he was trying to make Sam beg when she was already so upset. But she'd open up if she admitted to the fact that he wasn't just some dork...right?

"Freddie?"

"Yeah. Hold on."

She was resting against the wall again. Every movement was a battle for her, he knew it. He took a step forward and stopped. He couldn't watch, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Freddie...I think we should break up."

That got his attention. _"Huh?_"

Wendy just gazed at him. "You heard me."

Sam was all but forgotten. "But--but--I don--what?"

"Freddie, look at you. You can't get her out of your head."

He glanced at the blonde behind him, outraged. "Sam? I don't care about her! I could stop worrying whenever I wanted to!"

"You set yourself up so well. Listen, I'm not going to make you prove that. And I'm not saying this because I'm jealous or anything. You're just so _obvious_."

"Obvious?!"

"Yeah, Freddie. You've been watching her all day. You missed that date with me--stop, don't say anything, I don't blame you--you practically lived at the hospital while she was in that coma, and she's all you can talk about. Even before she got hurt. And I don't want to be dating a guy who so _obviously_ wants to date someone else."

She _was_ jealous. But Wendy had the ability to control her emotions much better than most other people. "Wendy, I--"

"Freddie, just let me do the right thing and let it go."

"Wendy, can't you just wait until--"

"Wait until what, Freddie? Wait until she's completely recovered in six months or until everyone's sure she hasn't been psychologically impacted in ten years?"

He gaped. She'd been giving this a lot of thought.

"Look. It's better this way, okay?"

He couldn't just let it go like that. Wendy was his first real girlfriend who actually like him for who he was and actually cared about him and actually didn't mind dating him and actually made him happy and actually... "Okay."

She actually meant something to him, and Freddie never meant to hurt her. If this was better...

Wendy attempted to smile, and then just waved and walked away.

_Why do I make my life so miserable?

* * *

_

So Sam was breaking. Admitting it didn't do anything. She could sulk over it for as long as she wanted, it wasn't like anyone cared enough to bother her anymore. She was in constant pain, this dark fear kept lurking in the back of her mind, she couldn't sleep, she couldn't eat, her friends were deserting her, her life was a mess...and there was no food in her house. It was so much easier just to give up on life at this point.

The doorbell rang, but her mom and stupid new boyfriend were too busy fighting (already) to answer. Sam flung the door open, ready to death-glare the person outside into leaving, but stopped in her tracks when she saw Freddie.

"What're you doing here?"

"Returning this." He held out her Geometry book. "I guess you lost it."

She didn't know whether he was talking about the book or her sanity.

"No, I didn't. I knew where it went."

"Then you owe Allie an apology."

"Shut up."

"That was lame."

"So's your face."

"That was lamer."

Sam grabbed the book and tried to slam the door shut, but he stuck his foot in the door jam. She was too slow...too weak.

"Let me in."

"No."

"Sam..."

She hated that voice. It made her really, really want to punch him. This was all his fault. Somehow.

"Get. Out. Of. My. Life."

"It's kind of hard to when you're acting so pathetic."

"Don't even go there, nub, I'm not acting like anything."

"So you just throw books at people for fun?"

"Duh!"

"You know what, Sam--"

"Freddie, you seriously suck at this whole 'I'm done with you' thing."

"Because I'm worried about you. Everyone is."

She kicked his leg out of the way of the door and shut it as fast as she could. He kept knocking, but she ignored him. _I can just lock the door and leave, and I won't have to deal with him at all..._ But she couldn't bring herself to do it.

"Sam!" His voice was muffled from passing through the wood. "You'd better let me in! I'm not going away until you know what your idiotic attitude's done to _me_!"

"Done to _you_? You've got to be kidding me!" Sam yelled back. "You have no idea--"

"Wendy broke up with me, thanks to you!"

She opened the door slowly. "She...broke up with you?"

"Yeah."

"...Aw. Poor baby."

Freddie was furious. "You're so ungrateful, Sam! She did it for _you!_"

He was already walking away when Sam stopped trying to puzzle his statement out. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

* * *

_"Stop it...please..."_

_He wasn't going to stop. Never, ever...this time he would finish the job. And her cries to desist were getting weaker...almost like she didn't care anymore...as long as it was over._

Why? I do care, I want to live...

Don't I?

_Why didn't she? There was some reason...some terrible, terrible reason that she couldn't fight back. And then she saw._

_Carly and Freddie were watching her die. They didn't move a finger to help her._

Sam's eyes snapped open. She was breathing hard, and covered in cold sweat. It was two a.m, and she was not going back to sleep.

* * *

Review please :)

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry about the short and long-awaited chapter...

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.

* * *

"Mom, I'm not going to school today," Sam announced in the morning. She was taking a much needed break. This was her one journey to the kitchen and the bathroom for the next four hours...four hours that would be spent resting blissfully.

Sam decided it was time to put her life in perspective. And then possibly figure out how to get her mom to move halfway across the country.

The truth was, she had nothing now. Her relationship with Freddie was a mess. Carly hadn't called for the past twenty-four hours--she'd had it, too. It was obvious she wasn't fooling anybody with her tough act. And she was sick of causing herself pain if it wasn't even worth it. Staying home was the second best thing to going back to the hospital--baby steps.

Wendy called her around noon, apparently skipping her lunch period. "Sam, where are you?"

"Disneyland."

"Seriously. Carly and Freddie flipped out when they couldn't find you!"

"Like they were looking for me."

"What's your problem, Sam?! Why do you keep pushing everyone away?"

Sam's eyebrows shot up. She'd never heard Wendy lose her temper. "You're stressing me out. I need to relax. Buh-bye."

"Sam...!"

Click.

Sam stared at her ceiling. She wasn't pushing anyone away. They pushed themselves away. Freddie was the one who went all 'I'm done with you' and Carly had been setting herself up to be beaten up. Especially when she was her best friend and was supposed to know when Sam wanted to be left alone.

_Don't kid yourself. No one was possessing you when you hit Carly, and you pretty much drove Freddie to the edge. Wendy's right...this IS your fault._

So what did that make her? Just like the guy in the alley? All she lived for was to hurt people. But even if that wasn't working out, she was _not_ about to become Miss Goody-Two-Shoes.

Darn. She'd forgotten to turn on the TV.

* * *

"What did she say? Is she okay?" asked Carly worriedly.

"She was being sarcastic--I'm guessing she's fine."

Freddie was silent. This was going downhill, fast. Sam sure as heck wasn't going to fix it, but he didn't see how he could help either. Sam didn't care if she got expelled; she could skip school indefinitely. And she would never have to go back. She'd be one of those hobo high school dropouts for the rest of her life...going crazy...killing people in between buildings...

_Whoa. It's not that bad yet._

The bell rang, and Freddie rushed out without saying goodbye. The school day had been a blur anyways; he wasn't sure he'd even spoken with anyone. His mom was right on time, as always."How was school?"

"Fine."

"Did you pass that Biology test?"

"Yep."

"You're very quiet today. Did something go wrong?"

"Nope."

"You know how worried I get when you give me one word answers, Fredward. Do you have laryngitis?"

"No, mother."

"That's better."

She chattered on until they reached the apartment. Freddie pretended to pay attention, semi-realizing that he hadn't done an essay that was due the next day. He was too tired to pull an all-nighter...

"Fredward, I forgot your medicine in the car. I'll be right back, go ahead and wait in the apartment. Make sure you don't trip on the stairs!" his mom reminded as they entered the lobby. Lewbert screamed at them for unnecessary noise, but Freddie ignored him (and his mother), taking the elevator up to the eighth floor.

On opening the apartment door, he had a near heart attack when he realized someone was already sitting on his couch.

"Sam?! What're you doing here?"

"Eating this stupid organic food. Has your mom ever heard of calories?"

He dropped his bag and slowly approached. "Um...how'd you--"

"Picked the lock."

"Duh. Okay. Well, why are you--"

"Are you interrogating me or are you going to get me something that'll actually fill me up?"

He plopped down next to her. "Let's go with interrogation for now."

Sam sighed. "I wanted to talk."

Freddie's eyebrows shot up. Finally, something was working out.

But she fell silent after that. He put his arm around her and pulled her close. This was nice...almost like things were normal, in a very abnormal way. Like they should be. Not how they--

"Freddie?" a voice whispered.

Was someone seriously trying to bother him when he was this relaxed for the first time in ages?

"Freddie...?"

"Go away..." Sam dissolved into nothingness beside him. "No! Not you!"

"Freddie, wake up!" The whispering was getting more and more frantic. "Mr. Howard's coming--will you at least pretend you're paying attention?"

He wasn't on his couch at home, he was drooling over a desk in math class. Shoot.

"Where's Sam?"

Carly gave him a pained look. "At home, remember?"

"You sure?"

"You okay?"

"Just answer..."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Where did you think she was?"

He didn't reply.

* * *

"Can you drop me off at Sam's, mom?"

He'd pinched himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming this time.

"Why? Has that injury finally calmed the girl down?"

"Please?"

"Fine...but make it quick."

"It'll take five minutes, max."

"I suppose. Although, I don't like the idea of you in that girl's house. Do they ever clean? Do they drink fat free milk? How fast is her mother's 9-1-1 dialing reaction time? Every second counts, Fredward, you know I always tell you--"

"I know, mom."

"--Because it only takes a moment for a dog to carve a chunk out of your leg--"

"They don't have dogs, mom, just one--cat." He caught himself before saying 'rabid.'

"Well, we're here. Be careful!"

The front door was unlocked, of course, as Sam welcomed any intruder that dared attempt to steal from her 'valuables.' At least, she used to, when she had the strength to take them down. Now it was just one more thing she had to realize she couldn't do anymore.

"Sam?"

The whole house was eerily quiet. Freddie remembered her room being a little ways into the building. He never used to come here often--Sam on her home turf? No thank you. He picked through the random newspapers and half-empty Chinese take out cartons on the floor, softly calling for the blonde whenever he could. Was she even here? Where else would she go?

Freddie peeked into her room, surprised when he saw her sleeping soundly. Searching for a pen and paper and settling for a napkin and Magic Marker, he scribbled, _Call me when you can. --F_

He turned to put it on her nightstand, and shrieked like a little girl.

Sam laughed. "Dork."

"You're _awake_?"

"Duh."

"You creeper, watching me when I wasn't looking--"

"Don't flatter yourself. I just didn't want to talk to you. Really manly scream, by the way."

"Really manly arm hair, by the way."

"Shut up. What're you doing, sneaking in my house? Who's the creeper here again?"

"The door was open. And...I wanted to check on you," he answered nervously.

"How many times do I have to tell you people? I. Don't. Need. A. Nanny."

"I'm not a freaking nanny, Sam, I'm your friend!"

"Sure you are. Because _friends_ tell other people they'd much rather've been anywhere else when I decided to tell you what everyone's been trying to get out of me--and I was trusting you, you stupid nub."

Freddie blinked. He'd forgotten about that. "I'm sorry, Sam. I just--Wendy--"

"Just leave."

Apparently the banter was over. She wasn't kidding around when it came to girlfriends.

Ex-girlfriends. Whoops.

Freddie sat down next to her, ignoring the very black mood that had descended. "Why weren't you at school today?"

"Because I hate you."

"How long have you been in bed for? The whole day?" While she tried to reply in as insulting a fashion as she could, he continued, "How about this. I'll stay for a while and whatever you need, I'm here. Okay? I owe you that much."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You sure about this, Fredward?"

"Yeah, why not?" He dialed up his mom.

"I don't think you--" Sam started.

"_Hello_?"

"Hey, mom. I might be a little longer. Like an hour or two. You should go home."

"_But--dangerous--"_

"Bye, Mom!"

Sam grinned maliciously. "Like I was saying. I don't think you remember taking care of Lewbert...you know, I can be a lot worse."

Freddie gulped.

"Oh...well, um--I don't--"

Sam fought the urge to laugh at the poor boy. Torturing him was what she did best. She should've let it all out right then--she really should have. Not laughing hurt a lot more than--

Freddie heard a _crack_, but he thought it was just the old, rundown house. He had no idea anything was wrong until Sam's eyes bulged out of her head.

"Can't--breathe--" And she started coughing up blood.

* * *

Freddie told the paramedics everything he could, but he wasn't sure if he'd been talking about Sam's injury or his fifth grade birthday party. All he could think was _she's deaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddead..._

They stopped questioning him. He sank into a state of semi-unconsciousness, trying not the see the dark red splashes that stained everything, trying not to hear the groans and heaves and screams as Sam fell apart...for good.

"The kid said she _walked home from school._ Did they tell her she had broken ribs or a paper cut?!"

"I don't know, Bob...this one's a goner. Wake that kid up, we're gonna need him to move out of the way fast when we get to Mercy."

_Goner?_ Vaguely, Freddie registered that 'goner' may not be a good thing.

"Will she be okay?" he tried to ask. It might have come out as something mangled and whispered, but they got the idea and refused to answer him.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

Special thanks to Invader Johnny, without whom this chapter would probably have never gone up. Sorry!

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly or the Teen Titans-I did take a lot from one of their episodes.

* * *

Freddie had had a dream. He'd been standing at Sam's grave, but it wasn't in a graveyard. It was in the middle of nowhere, maybe so she couldn't get near enough to any of the other dead to beat them up. Who knew. He remembered thinking how sad it was that she'd been alone the last few days of her life, and in death, she'd be alone forever.

Like all horribly vivid dreams, it disappeared the minute he woke up. Unfortunately, reality's problems pressed much harder.

"Where ishee? Whadja do?" Freddie asked a nearby nurse groggily.

"Honey, we've told you a million times. You need to go home. Your mother is driving us insane, and visiting hours are long over. Come back tomorrow. And bring someone else's mom."

"Mmkay." Seeing as that nurse was going to be of no use, he headed towards one of the nearest rooms and, praying he'd gone to sleep somewhere in her vicinity as opposed to a different floor, he hoped the room was hers. "Sam? Are you here?"

There was no answer. For reasons unknown to him, Freddie's heart sunk. That was stupid. Just because she wasn't in this room didn't mean...

He shuffled out and disturbed a few more hospital beds before the nurses chased him away. His mom intercepted, suddenly finding a connection with her son in their mutual fear of leaving the safe hospital and facing the real world's bacteria.

* * *

Sam wanted food. Badly. And if someone didn't give her some, she was going to get angry.

Getting angry, though, was easier than doing anything about it. She was in a full body cast and absolutely immobile. This was the part in the movies when some disgusting dog jumped on the bed and licked any exposed part of her it could find-namely, her eyes and her lips. She hoped her mother had left Frothy at home.

Sam wasn't really hungry. She hadn't been in a long time. But chewing gave her something to do other than lying around feeling sorry for herself. It was one of the most calming activities she-

A shadow fell over her. Glaring, she looked up and saw _him_. The stuff of her nightmares, the reason she'd _had_ nightmares for the first time in her life.

She wanted to kill him.

He was in a hospital gown, now. His eyes were redder than before and he was shaky, relying on his portable IV pole for support. He was paler than he'd been the night he'd almost killed her, but thankfully less filthy. And somehow, he looked a lot weaker. But, seeing as her arms and legs were suspended from the ceiling, she supposed she did too.

"They got you too, huh. I remember you." That gravelly voice she hated so much. Her insides were burning with anger and disgust and felt like vomiting all over his pale, thin face. "You were that girl who told me I wouldn't get nowhere. Thought you were dead. Guess you almost are. Since you're probably not gonna see tomorrow, I'll just let you know you were right. I ain't gonna be great ever. Thought I would, you know. But once you get a coupla bottles down, seems like anything's possible."

She didn't care about his stupid drinking habit. She wanted him dead. Dead and far away from her.

"You were pretty strong for a little girl. But you didn't have a chance. Used to be a WWE champ. Used to have a pretty wife and a boy. Used to be great. Ain't great no more. It's all gone, thanks to the drinkin'. All gone..."

The look he gave her repulsed her. He pitied her too-this idiot who lost his whole life, pitied HER.

"I killed them, you know. Just like imma kill you tonight."

Maybe that was the cause for pity.

He took a deep breath and raised his arm. One blow was all it would take, and she was a dead girl. This was not how it was supposed to play out. _She_ was supposed to have the upper hand at their next meeting. _She_ was supposed to beat _him_. And how could she if she was dead?

"Marty!"

The wrestler turned around in surprise. A plump, elderly nurse scolded him from the door of Sam's room.

"Marty, I told you not to go around visiting after hours! Go back to your room, you silly goose. I know this stay isn't very fun, but keep being strong, okay?"

He chuckled dryly. "I'm not strong anymore."

"Now don't go saying that, it won't help you get better at all. Come on, you can lean on me if you want, we're taking you back next door."

_Next door? _He would kill her in her sleep...

A little "mmph" made its way out of her throat. The kindly nurse turned and said, "Yes dear? Oh, you're that darling that-hmm, why don't we keep you nice and safe and locked up? Just to make your night a little easier. Sound okay?"

It was hard to give the nurse the death glare when she said that. At least she hadn't used the word "scared." Maybe it did sound somewhat okay.

The nurse waved goodbye, locked the door, and left with Marty. He pressed his face up to the glass in Sam's window before the nurse pulled him away. If Sam could've shuddered, she would have. It was no use trying to sleep; she spent most of the night wondering if the locked door would keep him out.

* * *

Carly heard about what happened after Freddie had made it home. Visiting hours were over, and she could barely fathom what Sam must be thinking about her. _Some friend I am. She's dying and apparently I didn't care enough to go see her._

At first she had wondered whether it truly was Sam who had hit her. One of the downsides of having an overly violent friend was living with the fact that should Sam decide to go crazy, Carly was powerless. But if Sam was insane, then was it really her fault?

_I should leave dealing with paradoxes to someone with no life._

Freddie sat next to her on the couch, quietly staring at the blank TV screen. He hadn't moved a muscle for about fifteen minutes, which made every twitch of Carly's seem exaggerated. She shifted uncomfortably and the air in the cushion _whooshed _out, amplified by the silence.

_"_She's going to die."

Carly had never before been afraid of Freddie, but his tone of voice was so unfeeling she couldn't help it. "You don't know that." What a lie. They'd known it all along. Even if her injuries didn't kill her, Sam could no longer live with what she had become. Short of putting her in a straitjacket and locking her in a rubber room, they would physically lose their friend forever. Mentally, she was already gone.

"I read somewhere..." Freddie's voice cracked. "When a horse is in intolerable pain, it'll try and throw itself down on the ground and roll over. Guaranteed death."

"Sam's not a horse."

"Humans do it too. We call it suicide."

"Shut up!" There was no force in that statement. Freddie didn't even flinch. "Please, Freddie. This can't be the end of the line."

He glared at her. "What do you want me to do about it?"

"I don't know. But there has to be something. The horse doesn't always die, does it?"

* * *

Sam had spent most of the night trapped somewhere between dreamworld and reality, but by the time dawn broke she had drifted off. Her fear had awoken parts of her she hadn't even known existed, and a little Sam convention was taking place inside her head.

They were all walking around her house, eating her food, exchanging banter. But there was something wrong about each and every one of them. One wore a pink bandanna and carried a journal around with her; Sam never remembered writing down a word outside of the occasional "do-it-or-you-fail-this-grade-Miss-Puckett" homework. Another (a very small one) carried a calculator and adjusted her glasses every five seconds, muttering, "No, no, that' can't be right." Still another sat in a corner sucking her thumb, spouting childish gibberish every now and then.

But one of them caught her eye immediately, only because she seemed the most normal. Aggressive and cool, she had that easy smirk that Sam hadn't been able to form her mouth into recently. Because the Sam she was looking at was not afraid.

Normal Sam was sitting at the kitchen table, studying a towering burger as if trying to find the ideal bite zone. Sam approached her warily. "Hey."

The other girl looked up and eyed Sam in disgust. "Oh. It's you."

_Wouldn't it technically be you, too?_

"SAM!" cried Pink Sam suddenly, dashing into the kitchen. "OMG no one told me you were here! This is so totally awesome! Did you bring Freddie? I've been writing about him in my diary _every_ day_, _just for you! Wanna read it?"

"What the fu-"

"Watch your language," advised Bespectacled Sam. "She abhors curse words."

"Did you just say 'abhors'?"

"Abhor. To hate, despise, dis-"

"Everyone shut up!" yelled Normal Sam. The kitchen fell silent. "I've been waiting ages for her to get here. It's time to get down to business. Get over here and sit down," she spat at Sam, who did so.

"You've been waiting for me?"

"More like I've been trying to get you back in here. One little thing goes wrong-doesn't mean you can take over," Normal Sam snarled.

"Please, let's try to keep this a little professional," the nerdy one cut in. "Sam has a multifaceted personality. Any one of us can take over, you are not to only one given precedence."

"Quiet, tiny."

"All I'm saying," Smart Sam continued nervously, "is that you've been in control for Sam's whole life, and we've been hiding out in the recesses of her mind. Maybe it's time others had a turn. Personally, I don't like being so unused. I'm going to atrophy, and then who'll keep all of you in check?"

"No!" Sam cut in suddenly. "I want that one back! The old me!"

"Well, well. Couldn't face the real world, could you?" Normal Sam smiled smugly.

"What are you guys talking about? You act like I'm...one of you. I'm not. I'm the real Sam."

"No," explained the little one. "You are Cowardice."

"What?"

"You see, most humans switch back and forth between different emotions, virtues, and aspects of their personality every day. Sam, however, has kept one face to the world for most of her life. That is, until you became powerful enough to overtake this one." She jerked her thumb at Normal Sam. "You used to be a vegetable, a little girl even smaller than me, and the most exciting thing you ever did was drool. And then that man came along and woke you up."

"Are you sure you're a part of my brain too?"

"Believe me," she sighed, "Sometimes I don't believe it either. Three hundred and twenty nine career detentions. Unbelievable."

"Thanks," grinned Normal Sam.

"Well, what do I do?" demanded Sam/Cowardice.

"You have to give the position back to Aggression," said Smarty Pants.

"Okay. Cool. She can have it. No problem."

"It's not that easy," growled Aggression. "You need to do it when you're awake."

And Sam's dreamworld dissolved.


	8. Chapter 8

It's not the best ending, but I thought after four years it deserved at least an attempt at an ending.

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.

* * *

Freddie was there first thing in the morning. "How are you?"

Sam glared at him.

"Sorry. Do we do the whole blink once for yes, blink twice for no thing?"

She blinked three times.

"You're hilarious." But he was smiling. She'd only ever seen him smile like that for Wendy. Sam didn't realize she was mirroring it.

"Hey, Sam?" Carly peeked her head in meekly. "Can I come in?"

Sam glared again. Why did people keep asking her questions when she clearly couldn't answer them? It was worse than being at the dentist. But at least she knew she was forgiven.

"I think that's a yes, Carly."

"You sure?"

"Yeah! She's probably like, 'Whatever, Carls, as long as you bring me chicken.'"

If Sam had been any less happy to see them, she would have despised him. She was not getting any real food and they had the nerve to mock her.

"Or maybe, 'Carls, get me outta this joint, I gotta clip my toenails.'"

Okay. If they were going to make a thing out of it, this was going to be a problem.

* * *

"She's here, Sam."

"Send her in," Sam mumbled.

Freddie hesitated, and then said, "This is going to be really hard. But if anyone can do it, you can."

"You bet your butt I can."

Freddie rolled his eyes, but he knew it was the first right thing he'd said. He didn't know what had brought on the change of heart, but he had never been so relieved. Not only had she been complacent enough in the last two days for the staff to let her head out of the body cast, but she had generally agreed to sit still and even allowed a single visit from her least favorite doctor. He knew better than to ask about it. "Have fun."

"Whatever."

As he left, Sam's therapist walked in. "I'm glad you asked to see me. Although I would have preferred hearing about the attack from you instead of Freddie."

"Yeah, well, I've got a question."

"What's that?" She sat down and brought Sam's chart out from her bag.

"How do I stop being a coward?"

The therapist studied Sam for a while. "To stop, you'd have to be one in the first place."

"I am. And that's not me. I want to be myself again."

"Okay. The first step is to address why you feel cowardly. Are you afraid you'll be caught by another man again?"

"I don't want to lose."

The therapist thought about that for a minute, and then scribbled something down. She was rehearsing what to say. Sam didn't like the look of that. But what came out of her mouth next surprised Sam. "Losing is different for everyone. You say that you lost because he hurt you more than you hurt him. But you have friends. A life. A future. Whoever he was, he clearly doesn't have that. Do you really think you lost?"

"He beat me up. I still...I still see him. Sometimes. When I close my eyes." She clenched her jaw. "Sometimes."

"He took your peace of mind. Your body will heal. But _you_ won't until you stop torturing yourself with the idea that you've gone from strong to weak in one night. You haven't truly lost until you let the idea of him take over your life. From what I've heard, you seem to be doing that, a little bit. Sam, you should realize that the rather amazing support group you have can help you move past what that man made you think of yourself. Believe it or not, these people respect you for your strength. That hasn't changed yet. Don't let it."

"And then?" Sam asked quietly.

"And then you'll relearn to respect yourself. Your limits make you human, and that's okay. Learning that is a part of growing up."

* * *

One week later, Sam was discharged to Carly and Spencer's apartment. Her gusto was coming back, little by little, but Freddie especially was enjoying this transition period from immortal to dead to just normal. Her being truly bedridden this time didn't hurt.

"But you never got to actually do whatever I said for two hours. Remember? That's what you promised when you almost killed me."

"Hey. Don't blame it on me. I heard laughter was the best medicine."

"If I ever want a lame joke I'll ask you nicely. But I don't want one and I never ask nicely."

"Alright, so what do you want me to do?"

"You can start by getting me whatever in Carly's fridge you think I'll like the most. Better be good."

"And a drink?"

"Yeah, surprise me with that too. You know, I think servitude might be your hidden talent, Freddork."

"Servitude is a big word, Sam. My nerdiness might be rubbing off on you."

"I'm multifaceted."

"Holy crap, you're on way too many meds."

"Shut up. And one more thing."

"What?"

She thought for a while. "You have to do everything I say. For the next two hours."

"Yeah...?"

"Everything. No wriggling out of it like a little Fredworm."

"I'm really starting to get scared."

She smirked. "Kiss me."


End file.
